


Strange day

by von_gikkingen



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Canon, Character Death Fix, F/M, Not Thor: Ragnarok (2017) Compliant, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-07
Updated: 2020-11-06
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:00:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27414637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/von_gikkingen/pseuds/von_gikkingen
Summary: “Thor?” he says, before he can think better of it. And it has to be a question. One spoken with some uncertainty. Because the man he finds himself facing is nearly unrecognizable as the god of thunder that fought his sister on the rainbow bridge on the last day of Asgard...“Yes. Do I...?”But that’s as far as he gets when it comes to that question. Because after taking a good look at the man who just addressed him he realizes there is a far more pressing one he should be asking.“How the hell are you alive?”
Relationships: Skurge | The Executioner/Mantis (Marvel)
Kudos: 1





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> well, first of all I would like to assign blame... Karl Urban, I blame YOU... looking hot as hell in Boys, making me resurrect a dead character, against my better judgement - because what else was I supposed to do? 
> 
> anyway... enjoy...

Things were strange long before today. Long before a there was a man stepping through a magically conjured portal in the middle of one of the usual Ravager haunts. 

A man who immediately found himself at the wrong end of an enormous number of very exotic weapons. And that was just for dropping in unannounced. It was a miracle no one did to him any of the things usually done to bearers of bad news once he started talking. Because bad news didn’t begin to describe what he was telling them. 

“Thanos,” repeats the first person that manages to recover their voice. “The same Thanos that died five years ago by any chance?” 

“Well, no. Technically a different one,” replies the sorcerer, not missing a beat. “But exactly as big a threat to all life.”

Something about the way he says it makes the man impossible to doubt. And just like that all those many exotic weapons are no longer pointed at him and all the owners of the weapons are looking to him for direction. 

When he tells them to follow him as he conjures a new portal not one of them hesitates. Because this is one fight there is no question about joining. One battlefield worthy of dying on if that’s what it takes to destroy this threat. 

All of that would be plenty of strange for one day. But that is only the starting point. What follows is a series of events one can’t exactly stop to think about because that way lies madness. Minutes after endless minute of relentless action – that was going to leave most of them with nightmares they won’t be free of for as long as they lived. But for the strangeness to end with the battle would be expecting too much, wouldn’t it? And even before the ashes of what was a formidable army mere moments ago are done falling he comes face to face with something that is, to him at least, nearly as upsetting.

“ _Thor?_ ” he says, before he can think better of it. And it has to be a question. One spoken with some uncertainty. Because the man he finds himself facing is nearly unrecognizable as the god of thunder that fought his sister on the rainbow bridge on the last day of Asgard...

“Yes. Do I...?” 

But that’s as far as he gets when it comes to that question. Because after taking a good look at the man who just addressed him he realizes there is a far more pressing one he should be asking. 

“How the hell are you alive?” 

“That’s... kind of a long story,” replies Skurge. 

***

It only takes something under a minute to tell the abbreviated version – which seems the appropriate thing to do, seeing how battle-weary Thor is. Not exactly up to listening to the whole thing. 

It’s still a weird conversation. Being brief doesn’t make it any less so. Not when he’s forced to utter words like _witch_ and _necromancy_... 

“Today I can believe almost anything,” says the other Asgardian eventually. In a tone that is as much accepting as it is tired. “But if you were alive all this time, why didn’t you...?” 

Knowing where that question is going Skurge is almost relieved when their conversation is cut short by an appearance of a young woman. Who, ignoring the fact the two of them are clearly in the middle of something, places herself between them to be able to get a better look at Thor. Studying what features she can see above the mess of his overgrown beard she frowns a little before saying, “It _is_ you, isn’t it...?” 

“Hello, Mantis,” replies the Asgardian in a tired voice. Prompting her to nod to herself a few times before stepping aside, presumably to let them get back to whatever they were discussing. 

She only takes a step or two, though, before calling on the top of her lungs, “Rocket. I found the pirate angel.” Making them both flinch at the sound, so startlingly loud in the silence hanging over the weary survivors.

“The... _what_?” Skurge says, giving Thor a look. That the other Asgardian simply ignores, rather than elaborate on how the hell did he come by that nickname. 

“Why is Rocket looking for me?” he says instead, speaking to the woman. 

“He wouldn’t say. I think...” she says, frowning a little, “I think he just wanted to give me something to do so I go away.” 

“That does sound like him,” nods Thor. “Where is he?” 

She only points, not bothering to answer. Not bothering to start walking in the direction she indicated, either. Staying exactly where she is instead she takes a long moment to study Thor, clearly still getting used to seeing what he became since she saw him last. Her eyes stray to Skurge then. Take in the leather outfit that immediately identifies him as a member of one of the Ravager clans, the messy black hair and full beard he grew in attempt to look as little as the person he was during his last days on Asgard. And though he was aware this was a good look on him, having it confirmed by the way her eyes immediately light up with interest is something that almost makes up for what he has been through on this battlefield. 

“Hello,” she says, a smile spreading across her features only slowly. Transforming her from pretty into startlingly beautiful. “I am Mantis.” 

This would be a good moment to tell her his name – or better yet, ask how the hell did someone as harmless looking as her end up on a battlefield. Instead, though, he finds himself saying something else entirely. “Are your antennae supposed to be glowing?” 

“Yes,” she says, her black eyes briefly glancing upwards to confirm that they are indeed aglow. “They glow when I use my powers. Or when I’m feeling some powerful emotion.”

He nods, ready to accept that. How can that not be the case, after all? How can she not be feeling relief or the simple joy of still being alive. Among other things – or so the way she’s looking at him make him suspect. 

It’s only after he hears Thor meaningfully clear his throat that he realizes just how small the distance between them have gotten in the last few seconds. And he’s not entirely sure which of them was it that took a step closer... “We should probably go look for Rocket,” says the god of thunder on realizing that he still has none of the woman’s attention. 

“Yes, you should,” she replies, never looking away from Skurge as she does so. And he has to laugh. Can’t help himself. Between the way she is openly ignoring the far more imposing Asgardian in favour of running her eyes over a complete stranger in a tattered Ravager uniform and the mix of amusement and annoyance on Thor’s face it’s really hard not to. 

“He’s right. Let's go find your friend,” Skurge says, putting a hand on her shoulder to let her know he’s coming along. Which does the trick and soon they fall in step beside Thor. Walking in silence for the most part. Which is not to say nothing is getting communicated – between the sideways glances passing between him and Mantis and the way her antennae still emanate that soft glow... It’s a miracle Thor manages to keep himself from making some kind of comment, what with how obvious they’re both being. 

“Oh, good, you found him,” says a small furry creature leaning on what appears to be a Groot when it sees them approach. “And whoever that is.”

“I am Groot...” 

“Well, yes, I can see he’s a Ravager. Not one of the ones we know, though, is he?” comments the furry thing. 

“No,” speaks up Mantis. “I would have remembered.” 

“I am Groot,” says the wooden creature a second later, obviously amused. 

“You said it, buddy,” chuckles the raccoon in reply. 

“So...” starts Skurge, more to prevent any further comments than for any other reason. “What do we do now?” 

“Look for Nebula?” says the furry creature after giving it a second’s thought. “She could probably use a little...” 

And then, instead of finishing that sentence, he just vaguely waves one paw-like hand in Mantis’s direction. “Oh... Do you think she’d let me...?” she replies, her expression growing serious and just a little sad. 

“No. Don’t think she will. But we still gotta ask, you know?” 

That’s all that needs to be said, apparently. And then they’re on the move again. Finding their way through the desolation all around them. Navigating around the broken remnants of Thanos’s battleship and the craters left by the bombardment. A bleak experience, certainly. Made no less bleak by the sight of all the shellshocked people they encounter on their way, wandering around with no idea what to do now that the dust settled. But all he has to do to dispel that feeling is to look at the woman walking beside him. One of her shy smiles and all he can feel is glad for this second chance at life he got.

Which is probably not how anything should work. Not after the kinds of mistakes he made. And yet it kept happening. Because the series of improbable events that led to his corpse being delivered to the ancient Asgardian witch who knew a thing or two about necromancy should have been all the good luck the universe would grant him in a lifetime. But no. His luck seemed to hold. To improve, really. 

“I am Groot...?” speaks up the tree-creature suddenly, rolling its eyes at them. 

“Yeah, I don’t think they can stop it...” comments Rocket, with an eyeroll of his own. And, well, he’s not wrong... 

***

At some point during the long, confused hours that follow he nods off. Too exhausted to care much about just how uncomfortable it is to be napping while propped against one of the trees growing at the edge of the battlefield. 

It’s a sound of several raised voices that wakes him. Initially confusing him as in his sleepy state he assumes this is an argument. But no, it appears that the so-called Guardians of the Galaxy simply don’t know how to communicate without snarking at one another with every alternate sentence. 

“He lives,” smirks Rocket on finally registering Skurge didn’t quite manage to sleep through their friendly banter – interspersed with almost an alarming amount of insults, considering these people are not deadly enemies. 

“Right. _Him_ ,” comments Nebula, coming to stand beside the raccoon so she can regard Skurge with unreadable expression. “Why is he here again?” 

“Because bug eyes wouldn’t let me ditch him. She’s crushing on him pretty hard.” 

“Wait, what?” says Quill, snapping out of his sulk on hearing that. “Why is this the first time I’m hearing about this?” 

“Because no one wanted to tell you? Because we knew you were going to do _this_ ,” chuckles Rocket. 

“Do what?” 

“Go all disapproving, the way you always do. I know she makes it very easy to forget but... Mantis _is_ an adult. And as funny as it is to watch you go all grumpy dad...”

“I am not being a...” interjects Quill, turning to glare at his small, furry companion.

“Good. So you finally realized that what you actually are is her idiot older brother. Who doesn’t exactly have his life together so he doesn’t get to judge?” says Nebula in a level tone as she studies the other Guardian. “Is that what’s happening?” 

“Okay, what is your problem with me?” 

“I don’t have a problem, Quill. But it has been five years. I’ll have to build up a tolerance to your stupidity all over again,” she says, again sounding perfectly matter-of-fact. So much so that the other Guardian doesn’t seem to know whether he gets to be offended by that. 

“She’s helping the injured,” says Rocket offhandedly, answering the question Skurge didn’t even get the chance to ask. “In case you were wondering. Because you’re not here for any of us, are you...?” 

He doesn’t bother to deny that. How can he? Never mind that doing a double take of what the raccoon just said. “Helping the injured... how? Is she a healer?” 

“Not exactly,” sighs Quill. “She’s... a whole thing. Tell you what. I’ll walk you over there...” 

Which is as far as he gets before Nebula utters a somewhat annoyed, “And threaten him the whole way...?” 

“Why would I threaten him?” says the man, striving for a casual tone. “We all agree she’s an adult, right? An adult that is so ready to make a terrible call about someone she barely knows...” 

“You are unbelievable,” says Nebula, now actually starting to look angry. 

“Yeah. You’re asking me to treat _Mantis_ like someone who can make good decisions and _I’m_ unbelievable. Drax,” he calls over his shoulder then, “back me up here.” 

“What are we talking about?” is the almost disinterested answer the other Guardian gives him. 

“Great to have you on the team, buddy,” sighs Quill. 

“Nebula’s right, Starmunch. You’re being an idiot,” says Rocket, shaking his head at him. 

“You’re only agreeing with her out of Stockholm syndrome.”

It really is quite amusing to witness this. There is just something about these people and their dysfunctional dynamic. Having a front row seat to it is not the worst way to be spending what hours remain in this strange day. Though there are better ways he could be spending them too... 

A thought that must show on his face because next thing he knows Nebula is extending a hand to him. Pulling him to his feet when he clasps her metal fingers, saying only a quick, “Let’s go,” before she turns on a heel and starts walking. 

“Oh, so we’re just not going to respect my authority as a captain?” says Quill, raising his voice in annoyance. 

“This is not something you should have an authority over, _captain,_ ” is her reply, delivered with her back turned as she keeps walking.

She makes no comment when Skurge catches up with her. Just walks on as though his presence made very little difference to her. Which makes him hesitant to ask the obvious question. “Why exactly is she with the injured?” he asks eventually. As he starts to understand that if he won’t say anything Nebula will just keep her silence. 

“She can help them get to sleep. She has... abilities...” is the somewhat vague reply. “Don’t ask me for details. All I know is I’m not letting her touch me.” 

Which is a pretty damn startling thing to hear. Something she only realizes after seeing the words made him stop in his track. 

“Because I’m not inflicting the things I’m feeling on her,” she adds, to negate how ominous what she just said sounded. Adding what finally tells him what she's talking about here with a brief, “She’s an empath.” 

Which both explains things and leaves him with even more questions. But asking them doesn’t feel like the thing to do. Never mind that there isn’t time because they’re already at an entrance to one of the tents where the injured were being treated. 

To say it’s a weird scene is an understatement. Just the fact that it’s not only human doctors and assorted healers of other species treating those that didn’t escape the battlefield unscathed – several of the sorcerers are being as helpful as their powers allow them to be. But those powers clearly take a toll because there is an equally large number of magic practitioners that are stretched out on several of the cots despite having no visible injuries. Unharmed, perhaps, but obviously too exhausted by all the feats they performed today for them to be able to cling to consciousness. 

“She should be in here somewhere,” Nebula tells him. “You won’t have trouble finding her. Motivated as you are.” 

It’s hard to tell if that’s meant to be a dig or not. Her tone is too level to betray much in a way of emotion. Still he can’t help asking, “Am I being that obvious?” 

“Yes.” 

Which is perhaps the only answer one can give. Because looking back he really did a poor job of hiding just how spellbound he was by Mantis. “You don’t disapprove,” he realizes, glancing at Nebula. 

“Disapproving would imply I believe I get to have an opinion,” she says, looking slightly confused at the thought. So here was one at least person that had pretty clear idea of what boundaries were. 

So much so that, after having told him this, she simply turns around and walks away with no warning whatsoever. Perhaps feeling she already spent way too much time on this – or, more likely, worried what the others were liable to do when left to their own devices.

He’d almost mind missing whatever new argument she’s headed into. But then he catches a sight of the one Guardian that never fails to capture all of his attention and all the others are forgotten, just like that. 


	2. Chapter 2

“I would like that very much,” she says when Skurge suggests they go somewhere other than this noisy place full of stressed out people. 

It’s not very likely they’ll be able to find any real privacy. Things were far too chaotic even now, hours after the battle has ended. The survivors having only the vaguest ideas of what to do with themselves now that it was all over. 

Mantis does, though. Have an idea. One that hasn’t been far from her mind since the moment she first saw this man. He looked so troubled then, standing beside Thor in the midst of desolation. So serious. And it took all her self-control not to reach out to him to soothe those worries, whatever they were. But there was no need – because all it took for a smile to replace that serious expression was for him to look at her. 

It was not the first time that someone found her appealing rather than ugly. In fact it happened with such a frequency it has long since become clear Drax was the exception rather than the rule. That wasn’t the part that came as a surprise. What did surprise was what it made her feel to find herself at the receiving end of that appraising look. How immediate and intense the attraction she felt for this complete stranger was. She wished he didn’t stop at merely looking, even then, only moments after meeting him... 

“So you’re an empath,” he says when they start heading for the exit. The word carrying a touch of hesitation as he says it. 

“I am. Do you know what that means?” she asks in the next breath, wondering. Hoping there is nothing about her powers that might scare him off. Because there were those that found the idea of having their feelings known a terrible prospect – something they would not be submitted to. 

“Yes,” he says only, his expression showing none of that familiar fear. And in the next moment his hand find hers in a gesture of further reassurance. A gesture of trust, too. There is bravery in doing that, knowing just how much she’s going to learn from even such a simple touch. And still he intertwines his fingers with hers, letting her feel all that he feels. 

Some of it she guessed before now, just by the way he kept stealing glances at her – just by the way the sight of her made him smile. But knowing it, _feeling it_ , leaves her no space for doubt. It’s not quite the same as the uneven mix of desire and infatuation and what can almost be the beginnings of affection she feels – but it is similar enough for her to know they are looking for the same thing in one another. There is more in him, though. A kind of amazed disbelief at his luck. 

He thinks it all so improbable. Her finding him someone worthy of her time. And she can only smile at the soft undercurrents of doubt and uncertainty. “But you knew all that already,” Skurge says, his hand never letting go of hers.

“I did,” she nods. Her antennae glowing, not because her powers are in use but because of the intensity of her feelings. 

It’s only a heartbeat later, when he lays his other hand on her neck, fingers caressingly running over her skin even as he leans down to meet her lips with his rather than breach the distance by pulling her to him. Still Mantis finds herself standing on her tiptoes. The difference in their height makes it a necessity. And she can’t bring herself to mind. She likes that he’s tall. Tall and dark and still mostly a mystery but the way his lips feel against hers make it impossible to question whether this is a good idea. Because to stop is unthinkable. And when they at last do, she finds herself saying, in a breathless voice, “Can we find someplace...” 

“Probably not. But we’re going to try anyway,” he says. A smile on his face and just a trace of amusement at her eagerness mixed in with all of his other emotions. 

It really is quite irresistible, that smile. More so because he doesn’t seem to realize. Doesn’t use it the way someone who knows it can get him anything he wants would. It’s always so... genuine. The way his features show nothing but delight when he looks at her. 

It is almost dizzying, how much she wants this man. How much she wants to get him somewhere private and get him out of his clothes. Her own feel suddenly restrictive, enclosing her skin when she’d rather have it bared. The idea it might not be possible is an upsetting one. Because to wait for a more convenient time is the last thing she wants. 

“Maybe we can find a ship that’s still mostly intact,” he says after looking around. Their surroundings have no buildings they might retreat into, after all, merely a few tents. All occupied by the people trying to get things organized around here. But the idea of one of the Ravager ships isn’t an unreasonable one. Most of them litter the landscape in pieces but there are a few that might fly again. And it is unlikely anyone is working on repairing them already, shell-shocked and exhausted as most of the fighters are. So, yes, a ship could offer them the kind of privacy they needed. 

None of that needs to be said out loud. The way she’s already searching for such a vessel says it all... 

“Over there,” he says a moment later, pointing out a silhouette outlined darkly among the shadows of the trees. A ship of the same familiar design as the Benatar that must have gotten shot down during the battle. It’s trajectory bringing it down much father from the battlefield than the others. As for how damaged it is, well, they’ll be able to find out soon enough. Because never having to discuss it, they both immediately turned to head in its direction. 

***

“There’s something you should know.” 

She knows what he’s going to say next will have something to do with the scar. The one in the middle of his chest, that looks like it came from an injury that should not be survivable. Because there is matching scarring on his back and it is not hard to guess it was inflicted by the same weapon. One that must have went right through his heart... 

Mantis forces herself to take her hands away and nods to let him know she’s listening. That whatever is the story behind this he can tell her. Without fear of scaring her off, though it doesn’t seem like she can convince him of that. All she can do is listen and stay and let him draw his own conclusions from that. 

“That’s... a strange story...” she admits after he’s told her of his death and the improbable way in which it has been reversed. “But I have one too. Many of us do. I was on Titan only yesterday. I died there. And then I was brought back.”

“It’s not quite the same thing,” Skurge replies. 

“No,” she admits. But even as she says it she finds she can no longer keep her hands away, and her fingers are tracing the scars on his chest in the next moment. “But it’s just another strange story. I hear so many. I’ve lived through so many...” 

She shakes her head rather than elaborate. If she starts recounting them she could be talking for hours and that is not what she wants right now. Instead she takes his hands and places them on her lower back to let him know this is when he helps her unzip her clothes. A message that does not get lost. Her skin is bared within moments and when he pulls her against him there is no barrier between their bodies as his warmth envelops her. 

For once she doesn’t find herself struggling with uncertainties. It can’t be helped at times. Social situations most people find no struggle at all are new and unfamiliar territory to her, due to her upbringing. The nearly complete lack of contact with other living beings that defined so much of her early life was always going to be affecting her. But this is not hard to navigate at all. She never once catches herself doubting whether she’s crossing some line, not with him.

There is not even the possibility of doing the wrong thing in the space between them because they’re in such a complete agreement about what they want. This is what was on their minds ever since they first laid eyes on each other, after all... 

It’s impossible to tell which feelings originate where and she doesn’t bother to try to distinguish them. She just accepts them, all of them. The intensity of two separate sets of emotions heightens the experience for her. The glow of her antennae pushes away the shadows of the ship’s interior, giving them just enough light to see by. Though they’d probably manage in the dark too, with nothing but touch to guide them. “You’re beautiful,” he tells her, not for the first time, and covers her mouth with his before she can think of anything to reply to that with. 

She doesn’t question it any more than she once questioned being called hideous, long since having learned it’s all in the eye of the beholder. And if this beauty he sees in her is what drew him to her then how can she be anything but glad to be beautiful? 

They take their time. Having this place to themselves they get to do that. And it does take time, to learn they way around the startling contrast between the solidity of his battle-hardened muscle and her far softer shape. One made up of curves that he seems unable to keep his hands off for very long. Craving this body that is built so differently to his own. And how can she not yield to that touch? It’s far too intoxicating to resist. 

It’s a rare pleasure to her to find real intimacy in what can so often be nothing more than momentary meeting of bodies. And this is more than merely that. The way all the emotion of it overwhelms her makes it impossible to mistake for mere physical contact. They have more in these moments that are theirs alone. Because what they have is as much as they’re willing to give and she finds she wants to give him everything he desires – only to realize that is exactly what she can expect in return. 

They take their time but it can only last so long. And with a shudder running through her she finds herself crying out into the gloom of the crashed ship. The sound of her pleasure at its most intense echoes against the metal walls for a few repetition before dying down, making for a strange moment. But it is all so very strange – and how can it not be, with this stranger so close to her, idly running his fingers through her hair? Wonderfully strange, this moment that against all odds comes at the end of a terrible day. Improbable and inevitable, both. 

“I like this feeling,” she says, her voice a little breathless still. And finds there is no need to say more because he knows she’s not merely talking about her body and the warn, pleasant exhaustion that has taken over it. It is within him, too, that pleasant suspicion that something has been begun here. Something that will not end with a single moment they managed to steal for themselves on a day that should have left no space for pleasure. 

It's hard to imagine this is going to be something that’ll end with them going their separate ways. That would mean they’d gotten everything they wanted from the other. And where this man was concerned Mantis wanted more. 

And she could have it, too. Whatever she wanted could be hers. She knew this from the way he looked at her right now. The open admiration of her beauty mixed with what really could only be affection. She wasn’t deluding herself about that, certainly. It was real. It was what he felt, despite knowing so little of her. He wanted more too.

Life was always a little strange but the strangest thing of all was that it always, always found a way to surprise anew. And that’s what this was. An unexpected surprise that came out of nowhere. One that made her very glad to be living in such a strange galaxy... 


End file.
